


First Foot

by Andrina_Nightshade



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Menstruation, Mild Language, New Year's Eve, Scottish Character, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28460028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andrina_Nightshade/pseuds/Andrina_Nightshade
Summary: Rey faces a lonely Hogmanay, but perhaps the familiar dark-haired man at her front door come midnight will bring good fortune...
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 35
Kudos: 75





	First Foot

**Author's Note:**

> 2020 has been a rough year, and many of us will be seeing in the New Year away from loved ones. Hopefully 2021 will bring us better memories.
> 
> Hogmanay is the Scottish name for New Year's Eve, and in other years, there would be huge festivities in Edinburgh, Glasgow and other cities. 
> 
> The title First Foot comes from an old tradition, whereby it is good luck for a tall, dark haired man to be the first person to cross the threshold after the bells have rang in the New Year. If he comes bearing shortbread, whiskey and coal... all the better.
> 
> Happy New Year fellow Reylos ❤

_"Oh I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500 more!"_

Rey grit her teeth as the music boomed from revelry in Princes' Street Gardens below, carried on the wind that seemed to seep through the stonework of her tenement flat. Whilst she had no objection to this particular song, hearing the same jaunty melody four times - and yes, she _was_ counting - in under two hours was bound to grate. She snuggled tighter under her duvet, and debated whether or not to turn up the setting on her electric blanket.

"Happy Hogmanay indeed," she muttered.

Clearly the partygoers below had no such qualms about hearing the Proclaimers on repeat, or the bitter, gnawing wind that chilled to the bone. Her friends would be amongst them - dancing and laughing and drinking and celebrating.

She should be with them.

At that thought, her traitorous uterus cramps again - and she hisses with the pain. Her eyes flutter to the clock - 10:30, meaning she can't have her next co-codamol dose for another hour and a half. 

Ugh.

Naively, Rey had hoped her menstrual cramps might have settled by the time she hit her twenties. As a teen, they had been almost debilitating, a monthly torture in addition to the tiredness, irritability, and general grossness that accompanied her monthly cycle. And some months, her body was gracious. The pain would still plague her on the first day of her cycle, but with her trusty friends paracetamol and chocolate, she could function as normal, albeit a little more irritable - but if Finn could enter into a five day sulk every time Celtic lost a match, then she was definitely entitled to some mild outbursts when her monthly friend was visiting.

And this month, the pain had returned with both a vengeance and the worst timing.

For three years their little group had tried - and failed - to get tickets to the Hogmanay Street Party. But this year, by some miracle, Poe had procured them tickets - although he had been somewhat reticent when asked exactly _how_ such a feat had been pulled off. 

And, if not for the constant cramps that steal her breath, Rey would be down there with them, complaining about the bar prices and the cold, but having a fantastic time nonetheless, surrounded by her friends. 

Well, not all of them. Ben wouldn't be there. His parents always held a little _soiree_ \- their word, not his, he insisted, his beautiful lips tugged into a grimace as he described the party - in their fancy house in the New Town. Complete, he alleged, with a piper to ring in the New Year. It all sounded terribly bourgeois.

A pang of guilt struck Rey. Ben had actually invited her to join him at this year's soiree a few weeks ago. 

" _Everyone else there is either twenty years older than me, or worse, a solicitor," he groaned, running a hand through those silky black locks of his. "I'm bored to death before the canapes are even served! At least if you come, we can be bored together."_

_Unfortunately, Rey had already accepted Poe and the gang’s invitation only hours earlier. Though Ben’s disappointment had been a tangible thing, he was at least gracious at her rejection._

__"Have fun for me as well," he said, with_ an odd quirk of his lips. "Make sure you wrap up warm though. And don't kiss any strange men at the bells!" He added, wagging his finger at her. _

_"Don't worry,” Rey retorted with a wink, “I'll just kiss Kaydel instead.”_

But tonight, there would be no kissing of anyone. 

Rose - dear, sweet Rose - had actually offered to forgo the street party and stay in the flat with Rey. "After all, no one should be alone on Hogmanay!"

But that would have meant Paige staying behind as well - and, given she had travelled all the way from London especially for the Hogmanay celebrations, it would have been decidedly unfair. So Rey had breezily laughed off the suggestion, and sent the sisters out to enjoy themselves.

Although some company _would_ have been nice, she thinks, stumbling into the kitchen and filling up the kettle. The window gives an unsettling rattle against another gust of wind.

When she and Rose had viewed the flat two springs ago, it seemed charming. To Rey, who had grown up in dilapidated council flats, dingy foster homes, and spartan Halls of Residences, living in a historic building - on the bloody Royal Mile too, with a view of the castle from her living room window - was an insane luxury. They had signed the tenancy agreement that day.

But come August, the noise and crowds of the festival were a relentless nuisance; and between October and March, wearing multiple layers around the houses (including a jumper to bed) was essential. Historic buildings, it seems, don't have double glazing. Really, as soon as their tenancy was up they should have moved to a more modern- and warmer! - flat. But the very idea of boxing up their belongings and moving had seemed too daunting. 

So, they had elected to stay in their noisy, draughty flat for another year.

Rey leaned against the kitchen counter, massaging her lower abdomen. Rose had - bless her! - left a lavender scented heat pack on the table. The sort of thing Rey had spotted in the windows of every second tourist shop on the Royal Mile, laughing at how anything seemed to sell if it was draped in tartan. But now, as another cramp rippled through her body, she tears into the packaging, and stuffs the damn thing into the microwave. Even if it only worked as a placebo, it might see her through to the next analgesic dose.

* * *

By the time she was back in bed, the warm pack pressed against her stomach, her lungs full of the scent of lavender, and both a mug of tea and the fancy fudge Ben had gifted her as part of their group's secret Santa within reach, Rey started to feel something resembling human once more.

Which only served to remind her that she was alone on Hogmanay.

She reached for her phone, seeing it flash with unread WhatsApp messages. Most were in their group chat - Kaydel taking Instagram worthy photos of the merriment of the Street Party, and sharing them with the group. There's one of Poe and Finn in matching kilts, locked in a passionate kiss; another in which, frigid temperatures be damned, Poe is lifting his kilt to demonstrate that he is indeed a True Scotsman, to the delighted smiles of some strange women and the exasperation of his boyfriend. There are selfies of Kaydel with Jannah and the Tico sisters, all huddled together like penguins to preserve their warmth. Their cheeks are red - a combination of the cold and the alcohol, Rey thinks - but their eyes are glowing with enjoyment. 

She added a quick message to the group chat, telling them she hoped they were having fun, then added a smiley face emoji lest they thought she was bitter.

Jealous, maybe. But not bitter.

She took a sip of her tea and munched on a piece of fudge. It was delicious - the vanilla not too overpowering, the texture just perfect - and it tasted expensive. More expensive than she would definitely purchase for herself.

Ben had blushed to the tips of his ears when Rey immediately guessed he was her Secret Santa. It was impossible to disguise his neat, beautiful script on the tag; and anyway, he knew she had a particular predilection for fudge. 

That was the thing about Ben - he just seemed to know what she needed. 

When her experiments were failing, and her supervisor completely disinterested, and she had convinced herself that she wasn't cut out to do a PhD, Ben brought her hot chocolate and let her bounce ideas off him until something eventually _worked_.

When her estranged mother had tried to get in touch last year, Ben had accompanied her to the cafe Rey had agreed to meet her at - albeit sitting a safe distance away. When it became evident all her mother had been interested in was trying to wheedle money for alcohol and smack and God only knew what else out of her daughter, Rey only had to text him, and he materialised to help extricate her from the situation. He also sat with her on the couch, let her cry endless tears against his jumper as he rubbed her back and murmured reassurances into her hair. 

And when the heating in the flat broke last winter, and her landlord had taken over a week to fix it, he had let her stay at his flat until the repairs were complete. Ben had even forsaken his own bed - despite her vehement protestations - when her period came, supplying her with an unlimited supply of tea and chocolate until the pain had receded. Most men Rey had known were varying degrees of squeamish around the topic of periods, but not Ben.

He was unquestionably perfect.

And, as much as she struggled to admit it to herself, Rey was in love with him. That day off the ill-fated reunion with her mother had only solidified the bonds of friendship between them, but as she sat curled up in his arms, feeling safe and protected, she knew what was blossoming in her chest was something more. 

She knew Ben would never see her that way; she lacked poise and elegance, something he seemed to exude in every gesture. Friends were all they would ever be.

Their friendship was a precious thing, something she valued above all else - and not something she was willing to risk. “Twas better to have loved and lost than never loved at all” was utter rubbish, as far as Rey was concerned. So she silenced her feelings, tucked them away in a box, and felt grateful to at least have his friendship.

She was helping herself to a second piece of fudge when her phone buzzed again, and Ben's name flashed across the screen.

**You have to save me from this party, Rey. Please. You're my only hope.**

_It's a party, Ben. Stop being over dramatic._

**Overdramatic would be a pleasant change. This is dull as shit. If I have to listen to one more discussion about house prices, I might scale a fence just to escape!**

Rey smiled at the mental image - her giant, well-built friend clambering over some flimsy fence dressed in a tuxedo or even in a kilt. A kilt that might catch the breeze and… 

She shook her. In addition to cramps, her period seemed to make her horny, and more than once during her cycle she had awoken from dreams of kissing Ben and doing… other things, with him. If he ever found out he would be disgusted and she mortified.

But at least in dreams she could pretend.

_That bad, huh?_

**The closest to interesting thing that happened was one of the women trying to look under my Uncle's kilt to see if he was a true Scotsman. He's currently hiding in the bathroom. Either that, or he's got a bad case of the runs.**

_Benjamin Organa-Solo, I am affronted!_

Then, because she couldn't help herself, because the image was burned onto her eyes, and she had the overwhelming compulsion just to know, Rey added,

_Not wearing a kilt yourself, then? ;)_

As soon as she hit send, waves of regret crashed over her. She flushed, reading the text back. It sounded dangerously close to flirtatious.

But before she could contemplate further, Ben had already replied.

**Hahaha, as if I'd risk a kilt in the presence of so many postmenopausal women! Even disgustingly bourgeois ones. Although… is that a misogynistic statement?**

_Absolutely. You're a pig, Ben. But, on behalf of all womankind, I bestow forgiveness on you._

**Your graciousness is appreciated.**

Rey contemplated how to respond without making other potentially provocative statements when Ben sent another reply.

**Hey, I've just seen the Group Chat. Aren't you with Rose and the others?**

_Three words: my monthly friend._

**Oh shite. You feeling OK?**

A weary chuckle escaped Rey. She suspected answering honestly ( _No, since I’m bleeding like a stuck pig, my uterus feels ready to explode and I’m alone on Hogmanay when all I want is to be in your arms_ ) would be a painfully awkward end to their friendship. Instead, she wrote:

_Fine, thanks. My secret Santa present definitely came in handy._

She watched those three little dots appear and disappear several times, before Ben’s answering reply came.

**I'm sure your secret Santa is happy to know that. Your dentist - maybe not so much, but who am I to judge?**

**Wait… if everyone else is at the Street party, does this mean you're alone?**

_No, I've got my faithful friends Mr Electric Blanket and Miss Hot Chocolate to keep me company whilst I lie in bed and contemplate my New Year's Resolutions. As soon as I figure out what they are._

**Tsk tsk, still not figured that out? It's an hour to the bells, Rey. I had mine worked out weeks ago.**

_Pray tell, Mr Perfect, what would those be? You're practically a monk!_

Ben's insanely healthy lifestyle was a common source of ribbing amongst their friends. Debauchery of any flavour was a rare occurrence for him. His fridge was always bursting with fresh fruit and vegetables, and his cupboards laden with all manner of healthy snacks (although he always kept a packet of Tunnock's Teacakes for Rey squirrelled away on the topmost shelf). He never smoked - not even socially - and on a night out he sensibly spaced his whiskeys with soft drinks. In all the years of their friendship, Rey had never seen him even mildly inebriated. Control mattered to Ben, more than he cared to show sometimes.

Even his weekends were spent on healthy, grown up pursuits - listening to radio plays; reading all manner of literature and non-fiction that he could get his hands on; and, when the weather was amenable, walking in the Pentland Hills. Rey had even been cajoled to join him a few times - which usually ended with blistered feet and aching muscles as she struggled to keep up with his long strides. 

(There was also the time she had fallen into a small hole. Honestly, Rey knew it was her own fault. She had been quite distracted watching his profile in the low winter sun, wind whipping through his hair and making him resemble the hero of some torrid romance novel, and hadn't noticed the shifting terrain until her leg sank into the ground, dragging her down with it. Ben hadn't laughed, or mocked, and had been unfailingly solicitous of her wellbeing for days afterwards.)

**Ah, that's a secret… For now, at least.**

Before Rey could formulate a sufficiently snarky response, Ben sent a further message. 

**Anyway, sounds like you have quite a threesome planned with Mr Electric Blanket and Miss Hot Chocolate… but just say the word and I'll ditch this party and come hang out with you.** ****

Rey hitched a breath. The idea was lovely - and, if he made it in time for the bells, then she would have a legitimate excuse to kiss him. Too many fruitless hours had been spent imaging the feel and taste of Ben's lips against hers. It was a fantasy - a dangerous one that could shatter their friendship - but a kiss at the bells would be a tame way to indulge in it. They would merely be upholding a time-honoured tradition.

As her gaze fell upon the time in the corner of her phone screen (11:02 pm), her heart constricted. Given how thick the crowds between her address and his parent's townhouse in the New Town, he would never make it on time.

So, Rey once again resigned herself to seeing in the New Year alone.

_You're sweet, but stay at the party. Happy New Year when it comes, and I'll see you tomorrow xxx_

She pushed away thoughts of him kissing another woman at the bells - someone faceless, yet so elegant and poised, the sort of woman who would fit in perfectly at his parent's upper class shindig.

* * *

At 11:50 pm, Rey had made herself comfortable in the living room, ready to see out the dying minutes of Hogmanay, and of the old year. She turned on the TV, and tucked her duvet around her shoulders like some kind of weary monarch. A monarch in tartan pyjama bottoms and a worn and faded University of Edinburgh hoodie and mismatched socks. She had a steaming mug of hot chocolate - on hand, ready to wash down two co-codamol tablets and toast the New Year. 

It wasn't the bleakest start to a new year she had ever endured… but it certainly would be memorable for all the wrong reasons.

The TV wasn't really necessary; as midnight struck, the air boomed with cheers and hoots of the crowd below, and the deafening crack and blinding colour of fireworks. She could hear the merry, off-key rendition of Auld Lang Syne of several thousand revellers but a stone's throw away; she could easily picture her friends amongst them, laughing and kissing and bellowing the lyrics.

So she raised her drink, and downed her painkillers, and once again cursed her uterus.

As the song died off, she started as a loud knock came from the front door. 

"The fuck?" She muttered shedding her duvet as she rose from the couch, and checking the chain was in place before risking a glance at the cracked peephole.

Her heart soared at the familiar figure, dressed all in black, his hair mussed and his cheeks flushed from the cold. She watched him greedily for a moment as his chest rose and fell beneath his black pea coat. He had the look of a man who had sprinted; and suddenly the door was too much of a barrier between them.

With force that surprised even herself, Rey ripped the door open. "Ben-" She began, but he raised a hand to still her.

"Sorry I'm late!" He said breathlessly. "Fucking tourists and fucking street parties." He shook his head, his Adam's apple bobbing in an adorable swallow. "Can we rewind a few minutes?"

Puzzled, Rey nodded, and followed him back to the living room. He fumbled with his phone for a few minutes before placing it on the table as the sounds of Auld Lang Syne once again filled the air. 

Ben reached for her hands. Even though his skin was chilled from the outdoors, his touch burned.

"Ben, what-?"

But her question was lost as Ben Solo tilted his head to kiss her.

In her fantasies, she had imagined his lips to be so soft - but the reality was infinitely better. He tasted of whiskey and the night air, and everything she had ever longed for in the loneliest moments of her life. He tasted of hope and dreams and passion and friendship. 

He tasted of love. 

Those lips, velvety soft, moved against hers with gentle insistence, his hands resting on her hips and holding her close. In response, she wound her arms around his neck, and felt his answering smile at the act.

It felt like they kissed for hours - in reality, only a few seconds passed before they parted. But still he held her close, brushed his nose against hers.

"Happy New Year, Rey," he said, voice deep and almost rasping.

"Happy New Year, Ben," she replied, her heart still bearing a rapid tattoo beneath her hoodie. 

This moment - this beautiful, transcendent moment - felt fragile. Delicate, like the threads of a cobweb. A single misspoken word might shatter it. So Rey simply buried her face into his shoulder, and waited.

"You wanted to know my New Year's resolution," he said against her hair. Rey nodded, unable to meet his eyes and invite reality back into this moment. "I promised myself that I wouldn't go another year without knowing what it was like to kiss you."

Time froze around Rey; the lingering notes of the song fading to haziness. She lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. Gone was the confident man who had kissed her; now, he was blushing so much, even the tips of his ears were red, and his beautiful eyes - the colour of whiskey - sparkled with doubt.

"Do you want to kiss me again?" She asked, a smile tugging at her lips. 

Ben acquiesced - and a groan vibrated against her lips as she immediately deepened the kiss, her tongue sparring with his in a delicious dance that robbed the breath from them. 

He had kissed her. He had _wanted_ to kiss her, perhaps for as long as she had him. And every whispering voice of doubt that scraped through her mind was instantly silenced. 

A laugh bubbled forth from her lips, breaking their kiss, but she only tugged him close. One hand dropped from his neck to encircle his waist… only to encounter something in his pocket.

With a sheepish grin, Ben unveiled the offending object… a box of expensive shortbread. "Just in case you didn't have enough sugar already," he said, handing it to her.

Rey laughed again. "A tall, dark haired man bearing shortbread… Ben Solo, did you just first foot me?"

For the briefest moment, Ben's brow furrowed, before he too chuckled. "Completely inadvertently, but it appears that I did." He cupped her cheek, all trace of the cold gone from his skin. 

She shakes her head, before pulling him down for another kiss. Every iota of her love she poured into it, and felt his in return. 


End file.
